


Journey Into Mystery #94.1

by orphan_account



Category: Thor (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Doggy Style, Hand Jobs, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Jealousy, Lap Sex, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Public Sex, Regret, Revenge, Rough Sex, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-10
Updated: 2011-11-10
Packaged: 2017-10-25 21:59:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The golden god preened and strutted his prowess in the streets, twirling his hammer playfully as he terrorized the mortals he used to love so dearly;  Loki couldn’t help but smile.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Journey Into Mystery #94.1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during _Journey Into Mystery #94_ (entitled _“Thor and Loki Attack the Human Race!”_ )— yes, this is the issue where Loki rather famously rides Thor around like his own personal thunder pony. ♥
> 
> What I like most about this chapter ~~other than all the phallic boasting~~ is that Loki seems legitimately _happy_ for the first time in... well, _ever_. Such a momentous occasion should be celebrated with epic over the top porn that only the Silver Age could bring you.
> 
> And why France? ‘Cause it’s _romantic_ and no one questions the _overabundance of cheese_.

**  
_Chapter 1: Rock You Like A Hurricane_   
**

 

Midgard lay in ruin before them. Angry storms raged across the land, whipping the winds into mighty tornadoes and devastating storms and in their wake, nothing but bleak disaster. Dark magicks uprooted buildings and bodies from the earth. Nightmare visions stifled the mortals’ foolish notions of bravery and hope until only their screams of despair remained.

Godly feats of showmanship leveled the rest. Thor and Loki took turns demolishing precious earth landmarks—honored testament to human ingenuity—endless lifetimes of toil and effort were wasted on a whim in one mere day of leisurely exertion for the two gods. Even the natural wonders of the world untouched by man crumbled before them like nothing. Loki could not remember when last he played a game so entertaining with his brother.

It had been Loki’s cunning plan to subvert his brother’s goodly personality and replace it with a demeanor more suitable to his purposes. He had tricked Mjolnir into striking Thor in the head thus knocking loose the thunder god’s recent memories and all scraps of morality. It had worked. Soon after, Thor had come to Asgard to rescue Loki from bondage, and together they declared war upon Odin and his foolish followers. The inhabitants of Midgard would play their hostages, and with this bargaining chip, the throne of Asgard would finally belong to Loki, and Thor, his impressive champion.

They flew further over the French countryside, Loki astride his brother’s waist as Mjolnir pulled them along with bursting speed toward their next target. The citizens of Paris scattered like panicked vermin as Thor ripped their Eiffel Tower to ribbons and tossed it aside like so much rubble. The golden god preened and strutted his prowess in the streets, twirling his hammer playfully as he terrorized the mortals he used to love so dearly; Loki couldn’t help but smile. All had happened beyond his expectation.

Thor beheld his work with fierce satisfaction, gripping mighty Mjolnir at the ready. Electricity sizzled down his biceps, unspent energy smoldering beneath sinew and threatening to crackle and strike at a split second like lightning. Loki had seen his brother worked into a frenzy as intense as this before, yet he had usually been at the receiving end of it and not in accompaniment to it. It made Loki’s hairs stand on edge to be this close; he staved off the indulgent shudder that threatened to shake his body at the delicious thought of it. This unimaginable force of power now lay at his full disposal, it belonged to him, for all of his schemes.

Thor caught his brother staring and grinned a grin usually reserved for Loki’s own wicked use, “Do you like what you see brother?”

“Yes,” Loki noted the double entendre and swerved, “Midgard looks so pretty this time of day.” _When it’s on fire._

Thor growled, impatient with Loki’s coy deflection, “Not that, brother.”

“I thought as much.”

The actions of the day had inebriated his brother with an unordinary lust. Loki recognized it easily. One did not grow up in the war-minded world of Asgard without encountering battlelust; brute idiots fresh from the battlefield, dirtied with the blood of their enemies, would slake their thirst on meade and women and celebrate their baser instincts into oblivion. At this moment, Thor looked no different from the lot of them. His chest heaved and his hunger shown plain.

The thunder god grabbed Loki possessively about the waist with the hand unhindered by his hammer, and crushed him to his frame in dire necessity, claiming his spoils of war. Loki flinched on reflex, but only due to countless years of conditioning. Thor had not lifted a friendly hand toward him since their youth and the trickster was far more accustomed to his brother’s actions bringing him affliction.

Loki did not cherish the idea of being any man’s prize, but perhaps in this scenario he would let it pass. After all, was this not his own victory, and did his greatest triumph not warrant celebrating? This barely abated affection from Thor was saturated with a newness Loki needed to explore.

Loki found his smaller body pressed flush with his brother’s massive own, flexed and straining and thrumming with potential. He pushed his hands along the broad span of Thor’s chest laid before him and felt Thor inhale. “My my, Thor. You are deplorable.”

“No more than you.”

“You know this is taboo,” Loki added, and as he said it he wanted it more.

“Let Odin watch. Let him weep at the passion his sons doth possess, and which he does not.” Words rumbled like thunder in Thor’s chest. It was oddly soothing.

“Ah indeed, the new rulers of Asgard should possess such vigor,” Loki teased, immensely pleased that it was all going his way.

Clearly, Thor was awaiting Loki’s permission, else he would have taken him already— it was within his power to do so and Loki had implemented no spells of protection. It would seem that obedience and equality had not been the only advantages gained with their newfound alignment, but respect as well. Of course, Thor could barely contain himself by now, his jaw clenching back a pitiful noise and his hand squeezing Loki’s arm impossibly hard.

Loki felt this loyalty was due its reward. The trickster stroked his brother’s cheek with encouraging fingertips, pushing past his temple and into mayhem-disheveled hair, petting him like a dog. Thor greedily accepted his offering, leaning into his caress and kissing Loki’s offered hand whilst using the opportunity to sneak his own hand lower along Loki’s body.

“By all means, dear brother. It seems a worthy endeavor...” Loki answered with ambiguous words. Verbal foreplay was every bit as arousing as the rest of it, and it made Thor squirm so.

Loki’s lack of action made Thor frantic. The thunderer did not want to comprehend deeper meanings or subtle undertones. This storm threatened to break at any moment, dark in its ominous intention. Loki felt that this chaos would destroy him as it had destroyed Midgard this day. He welcomed the end of everything.

“Perhaps I should be more blunt,” Loki leaned forward, his lips ghosting along Thor’s. He mouthed the words: _Have me, brother._

Thor lost all reason to heed further pause. The god of storms brought them both plummeting to earth with a roar, cracking the French countryside asunder with the force of it. The heavy weight of his brother’s body pressed Loki down into the gritty mud and grass, the wind ripping everything apart around them and turning the world upside down. Loki implemented a hasty enchantment to bar them from the galeforce elements his brother brought forth in his lust, an eye in this impossible hurricane.

Thor’s kiss was passionate and punishing. Like sheets of rain pounding waves over pavement, Thor drowned Loki with this kiss so unrelenting it washed him away. Loki grappled against the flood, gaining purchase on the solid ground of his brother’s shoulders and hanging there for dear life.

Reaching up to push the winged helmet from his head, Loki tangled his hands into Thor’s disheveled locks, yanking hard to steady them, to focus this encompassing entropy into one solid, mindblowing endeavor. Thor was encouraged by this, adjusting to Loki’s needs with a deliberate tongue, repeatedly violating the trickster’s mouth until the smaller god choked out a breathless moan beneath him.

Pleased with this, Thor put his hands between them, stroking Loki’s rigid flesh through the thin fabrics of his costume. Loki was already hard, helplessly so. The trickster’s state of arousal was met with further approval from Thor who suddenly took offense at the useless clothing keeping him apart from his brother’s shame. Thor made quick work of it, ripping the material easily from Loki’s frame, belly to thigh, exposing Loki’s swollen, vulnerable underside.

The thunder god was no more gentle with his own attire, removing it without effort and exhibiting himself proudly before Loki. Loki stared on in amazement. Every inch of him was perfect. This chiseled physique had worthy cause to be the envy and pride of all the gods, and Thor carried it well. The thunder god’s erection hung thick and heavy between his legs, unyielding steel pressed hotly to Loki’s inner thigh, making his own cock twitch at its presence. It was Thor’s perfection that had daunted the trickster so thoroughly in the past; he found it ironic that he yearned to be its victim now.

Thor’s cruel hands did not hurt him, they only brought him pleasure, rough and determined and more than making up for lack of finesse with the sheer enthusiasm behind it. Loki pushed up to meet the onslaught, eager to take everything from his brother that had been denied him for so many years.

Thor spread Loki’s legs apart and settled himself there— Loki gasped, realizing there would be no pretense of preparation. That Loki had allowed his brother permission at the start of their copulation was the last input Thor required on Loki’s part, it would seem. Thor was no less selfish now than when there was goodness in his heart, perhaps it had even been magnified. The god of thunder would ever and always get his way. Loki exhaled slowly to calm his senses enough to conjure magicks that would allow Thor easier passage. And not a moment too soon.

Thor took him with a mighty thrust, rending him in twain. It was an unimaginable pain, so sudden and violent that it shocked his body and ran its course to the ground as a flash of lightning. All sensation left Loki, the force of it feeling as though it had severed him from his nervous system. Loki blinked away bright spots, or maybe tears, and willed his head to stop ringing. When Thor moved again, it hadn’t much improved, but he bared the brunt of it until the initial trauma had subsided. In its wake a deeper ache remained. It was raw and intimate, opening Loki up and exposing all his secrets. Thor groaned above him, spilling secrets of his own.

Now that Thor had finally laid claim to his brother, his desperation melted away into slower burning intensity. He fucked Loki in long, hard strokes, burying himself to the hilt over and over again in a maddening rhythm that jarred Loki to his core. The kiss returned, also calmer this time yet no less overwhelming, making Loki’s silver tongue submit in the only way conceivable.

Lips parted for air, but barely, and Thor moaned Loki’s name into his brother’s mouth with need. The trickster wondered mildly how one could possibly give more than this, until his brother answered the question for him by hefting Loki’s legs up over each shoulder and baring down on him at an impossible angle that bent the smaller god nearly in half. Thor swallowed the impending complaint with another kiss.

Electricity stabbed through Loki once more, and more, but different now as white hot pleasure racked his body. He chewed at Thor’s lower lip, which only encouraged his brother to assault him further. As tension built, the turbulence outside Loki’s shield of magic seemed worlds away; all there was in this place was him and Thor. Midgard was gone, Asgard had never existed— there was only his brother and there was no need for anything else. Each firm press atop him left him clinging to Thor, his muscles taut, his body trembling. He was so close, so...

Then Thor stopped.

Loki grimaced in protest, his near release slipping away into frustration. Thor had to pin Loki’s arms to the ground to stop him from striking at his brother.

Thor beamed down in triumph, the edge of his new uninhibited demeanor too conspicuous. The thunder god was delighting in forcing Loki to acknowledge him, gleeful in his immaturity like an overgrown child. Again, upon closer reflection, Loki noted how one deft smash to the head hadn’t altered Thor’s personality too drastically. The arrogant god was still arrogant.

Loki seethed breathlessly, “Stop gloating. You’ve accomplished nothing.”

“I have ruined the world for you,” Thor kissed his forehead, “and put that pretty color upon your cheeks. I’d call that accomplishment.”

“Not until you finish it,” Loki commanded.

Thor hummed in compliance, but pulled away abruptly, dislodging himself. Loki cried out at the sudden absence and discomfort, loathe to discover the emptiness he felt. His body was stiff and cold without his brother to occupy it. It was short lived however, as Thor pulled him up and twisted him around to lay prone. Cranking Loki’s hips upward and palming the globes of his ass, Thor spread him out and filled him again. Loki buried a thankful moan into his forearms where they braced themselves against the earth, arching his back and letting Thor take him from behind as some animal.

Thor was not a creature of moderation. The god of thunder put all of himself into any endeavor, usually with a terrifying degree of force, and this situation had proven no different. Loki’s body protested wholeheartedly to such prolonged abuse. Loki bit his lip, expecting agony to engulf him once more until his body acclimated to it—again—and to have no choice but to endure the matter... but this time, as his body tensed in apprehension, Thor paused. There was a sharp intake of breath then, and it came from both of them.

Loki felt Thor lean over him, the tickle of his long hair brushing against his shoulder blades as his big brother kissed the back of his neck in a too-gentle fashion. Loki shivered, pushing himself up to his hands to peer over his shoulder. Earnest blue eyes met his gaze, inquiring; Thor’s large palm quested along the underside of Loki’s torso, holding him firmly around the chest, his hand resting over his heart as a means of assurance.

Loki turned away and sneered, grinding his teeth in shame and anger that came too easy in things relating to his brother. How dare he treat him like something so weak! How dare he suppose his own superiority in this, when he was not even in possession of his own mind! Not this time. This time, it would be Loki’s conquest, and Thor would be his prized trophy to brandish before the subjects of Asgard in his long awaited victory.

Loki gripped Thor’s hand, chastising the thunderer for his sentiments. He pushed the offending appendage back to lay along Loki’s side where it should remain. Thor lowered his head to kiss along the curve of Loki’s shoulder once more, keeping his eyes leveled at his brother the entire time as if Loki were a dangerous predator. Thor could take a hint, and he knew when to be weary of his brother. Even still, the amorous idiot would not be denied what he wanted. Loki sighed.

Loki nodded to Thor and gave him leave to continue. Thor was only too happy to fill him up, pulling Loki against him by the hips with a satisfying slap against flesh. There he remained for the while, not thrusting so much as gyrating himself firmly into Loki’s forbidden heat as if trying to crawl inside him. Buried far deeper than the trickster thought possible, this lewd motion played Loki’s body like a fiddle and with just the right tune. For the second time, Thor hit him in that spot that made him scream. Loki could see Thor’s smug grin without even looking back at him.

Thor found a familiar rhythm once more, warming them both up to the state they had been previously. Loki could feel even more of his brother in this position, the slide of his girth sending gratifying sensations ripping down his spine. Loki pushed back against Thor’s thrusts greedily, grinding his hips against him until his older brother whimpered. Fingers twitched along Loki’s hips, flexing, grabbing hard enough to bruise.

Before long, Loki abandoned trust in his arms to hold himself upright and rested on his forearms once more. He clasped and unclasped his hands in front of him, and then dug them into the dirt as intensity gripped him in the gut and threatened to disembowel him. He parted his legs wider to let all of Thor in.

Flipped around now, Loki was able to see the rest of the world in front of him. Yes, Midgard was out there, but he could care less. More interesting than that— Mjolnir lay forgotten, lodged in the mud before him with its handle pointed skyward. The sight was arousing. Loki reached forward as if enchanted, grasping its heavy handle with slim fingers.

As he encircled its circumference and took hold, Loki could feel Mjolnir’s powerful magic vibrating beneath the surface of the mystic metal. It contained the power of the gods—nay, of the very elements themselves—that which were forever locked away from the likes of Loki. And while he may never be able to lift it, he now controlled the hand that did. It was finally his, in a way.

Loki’s body tingled with delight. Thor behind him, Mjolnir before him, a most alluring predicament, almost that which dreams were made of (although in his dreams, Loki was wielding the Uru hammer himself). Thor may be able to give him what he desired, but this hammer promised him desires yet to come. Loki clasped onto the handle, flexing his arms and bringing himself toward it even as Thor brought him backward.

Thor saw this and growled possessively, although Loki wasn’t quite sure where the anger was directed. It was no great secret that his brother had quite the love affair with his beloved hammer. It was his birthright... even if it should not have been. Loki would not put it past Thor to punish him for coveting it.

Thor took hold of the horns upon Loki’s helmet and jerked him upward, away from Mjolnir, pulling the trickster to his knees. Loki winced as the sudden shift in position shoved Thor even deeper into him in a way that bordered on unpleasant. Thor restrained Loki there in warning, the trickster’s back compressed against the thunder god’s unyielding frame.

Thor’s voice boomed in his ear, “You’re mine. You’ll pay your attentions to no other.”

“Jealous?” Loki teased, “I was only touching it.”

“Then touch me.” Beneath the stern demand, there was anxiety. It was more than Thor not wanting to share.

Loki placated Thor’s distress by snaking his arm up behind the brute’s head and stroking the nape of his neck in a motion that could be misconstrued as affection but was perhaps more appropriately labeled as ownership. Loki tilted his head back against Thor’s shoulder and played his lips along his brother’s jawline, listening to the larger god’s pulse roar in currents.

Thor was very warm and smelled of musk, heady and virile. Loki nuzzled close, breathing him in and nipping along his vulnerable jugular. Thor swallowed slowly, the motion rippling through the mass of muscles holding his head just so. The thunderer’s neck was stout and strong, like every other part of him, and was a comfortable spot to take hold like a leech. Thor would never have allowed Loki access to such a vital area on his body before this day. Pity he could not take advantage of it as he would. Dispelling his murderous fantasies, Loki put his mouth to good use, coaxing Thor to love him despite his faults. Thor was too easy.

Thor frowned and gradually accepted the offering, covering the rest of the distance to Loki’s mouth with dominating passion. He maintained his hold upon one of Loki’s horns to keep him immobilized.

After, Loki licked his lips, “Mm. You’re the one who should be touching me. You neglect your brother too much, Thor.” Indeed, the trickster’s arousal strained expectant between parted thighs.

Trailing his hand down the firm plane of Loki’s stomach, Thor finally gave relief to his brother’s flesh. Loki all but purred his encouragement in Thor’s ear, his breath a shallow puff of air on the thunderer’s neck. Thor’s hips twitched involuntarily, causing Loki to squirm where he was seated. The clench and pull encompassing him made the thunder god nearly fumble in his ministrations. Loki grinned to himself, holding his brother just as captive in turn.

Taking him in hand and palming him generously, Thor rubbed his thumb roughly across the leaking tip to strangle heated sounds from his brother’s throat. Thor again grasped at Loki’s helmet, tugging his head to one side to bare the trickster’s neck to him completely, lavishing the sensitive area with aggressive open mouth kisses and eventual biting. No doubt Thor intended to mark him as property— no matter, Loki would vanish the bruises later.

Thor was good at this. His hands were large. Large enough to span him in one handful, yet he alternated in utilizing both with devastating advantage. Tugging at him first, and then slipping lower to grip tightly at the base, his brother paid close attention to every inch of him. He stroked him kindly, trailing dampness from shaft to head and back again. And, finding it was not enough, Thor spit in his hand and resumed, providing a cruel mockery of wet heat that Loki would have found distasteful if it hadn’t felt so good.

And then, when Thor was finished toying with him, he went for the kill. Those hands, hammer-calloused with years of wielding mighty Mjolnir, battle-roughened with the deaths of countless foes, now commanded Loki in easy form. Loki closed his eyes and imagined it, his brother gripping the leather-bound handle, straining at its girth... heavy and firm and powerful...

When Loki opened his eyes again, Thor’s handsome face was watching him with intent curiosity upon his brow. Once spotted, Thor leaned in to kiss the corner of Loki’s mouth, pleased that his little brother seemed to be enjoying himself. Loki was beyond shame now. The trickster moved, fucking Thor’s hand in deliberate, lewd motions while sticking Thor to the spot with a lascivious stare. The thunder god could do little else but obey Loki’s wordless demands, giving into his brother’s every greedy desire.

When Loki shuddered and his breath caught in his throat, it met with heavy sounds of approval from Thor. The thunderer produced further reaction with short pulses from his hips, pumping into his brother’s quivering body. The thunder god squeezed tighter, stroking him in earnest until Loki keened. Tension pooled in Loki’s belly, threatening to snap.

Then, Thor ceased once more.

This time, vulgarities spilled unrestrained over Loki’s parched lips. He hated him! _How he hated him!_

Thor chuckled against his temple, praising him for a good performance. Loki shook in anger, in need; he was shaking and he could not control it. His fingernails dug into Thor’s forearms where the larger god held him in place— Loki willed his magic to burn Thor, to melt his flesh from his bones, to teach him a lesson, to punish him for such humiliating treatment— but nothing would come. Thor had denied him his reward and had ruined his resolve in the process. All that remained was cold, vile desperation.

Loki was unable to dwell in vengeance for long however, as Thor began to move. The thunder god sat back on his heels and pulled Loki closer onto his lap, thrusting upward while harsh hands on hips brought the smaller god down upon him unrelenting. It was jarring and turbulent and it sent sparks into the atmosphere. It was beyond destructive to any semblance of thought process. Loki forgot entirely of his momentary hatred as Thor paid him back in spades.

Thor did not touch Loki further with his hands, choosing instead to put effort into devastating him from within. Thor screwed Loki desperately, and in his abandon, the trickster seemed nothing more than a piece of flotsam tossed to and fro in the savages of the sea. Loki bobbed along at the mercy of such might, his arm clenching around Thor’s neck for balance, his other hand twining with the hand Thor held him steady with. He cried Thor’s name until the air left him.

Only then did Thor touch him directly again. It was quick and to the point, careless fingers selfishly stripping him of his dignity and leaving nothing behind but vulgar necessity. Loki writhed beneath the assault, easy to the suggestion and loathe to admit it. None but Thor could ever have the power to dismantle him thus; he would deny it to the grave.

It was too much for Loki to withstand. Each shove touched the trickster deep inside and, coupled with Thor’s vigorous reach around, it was enough to topple Loki’s every defense. Finally, Loki was able to lose himself. Every relief that his brother had so cruelly denied him this day (and forever) had returned to him triplefold, and his body trembled violently with it.

Thor too, reached his peak in a moment so grand the very earth shook at a magnitude intense enough to topple more of Midgard’s buildings. Lightning struck a nearby tree as Thor struck home, expending himself utterly until all Loki could feel was warmth and numbness. The only sensations left were the rise and fall of Thor’s heaving chest and the sound of their labored breathing. Thor embraced Loki with dire affection, buried inside him still. They remained a while in this comfortable intimacy.

For that brief while, which felt far longer than its reality, it was not required that Loki be anything but _this_. It was simple. There was no magic to concentrate on, no lies to maintain, no scorn to endure. Loki was not hated in this moment, only loved. Loved in a way contrary to what was customary, but loved just the same. Something hot blossomed in his chest at the idea. Thor belonged to him now... yet in this triumph, Loki relinquished some of his own control in kind. It was not an unpleasant thought.

Love and hate were equalizers. They were no different than two sides of the same coin, their outcome dictated by circumstance. Circumstance could be manipulated, it could not be conquered; today luck had been with him and he was victorious. And tomorrow must follow today. Once put into motion it must continue that motion, and so Loki’s carefully laid plans would continue on their path. He would not fail. This was but the first step.

A part of him however, a sentiment long neglected and ignored, wished this moment never to change.

Thor caressed him kindly now with sweet touches and soft kisses, brazenly apologizing for his many transgressions during their congress. Loki snorted and remained aloof. Thor had gotten his way again and Loki refused to reinforce bad behavior. The trickster would hurt from this tomorrow and for that there was no forgiveness. So help him, if he could not actually _sit_ upon the throne of Asgard, Thor would pay dearly for it.

“Loki?” Thor rumbled lazily in his ear.

“Yes?”

“You are lost in thought. Shall I come looking for you?” Thor took Loki’s hand in his, holding on firmly as if to keep Loki put.

“Oh.” Loki felt dismantled by Thor’s quaint sincerity, no doubt affected in his afterglow. The fire in both of them had burned itself out and would take some time to rekindle. Loki’s immediate reaction was to banish it from his thoughts and dismiss his brother entirely, but that disagreed with the motivations of his present scheme. Instead, Loki played along, his words ambiguous in their meaning, “Yes, Thor. When I am gone, come find me.”

Thor paused in bewilderment, but nodded. “I will always find you.”

Loki denied him that much. “I won’t always be there.”

 

* * *

 

The conveniences of Loki’s magic washed away their shame and repaired their clothing (to say nothing for the landscape, which they left in decimation). From there, they continued on their mission to bring humanity to its knees before the throne of Asgard and force Odin’s abdication. Assured victory lay in the sights, but where Odin was concerned, Loki knew well to devise an auxiliary plan.

Assuming human form, Odin and the other gods tricked them into a trap. It seemed ironic now, that Odin would use the same treachery he oft chastised Loki for— did not the son learn from the father? Loki despised him with every fiber of his being. In truth, Loki could not even condemn Thor’s actions up to this point as anything but those of the hand of the All-father himself. It was not worth much, but it was why he did not hate his brother in the same way as their father.

Conflict arose swiftly from there, and since Odin could manipulate Mjolnir with as much ease as Thor, Loki had no power to stop it. In an instant, Loki’s good work was undone. With a renewed strike to the head, Thor reverted to his noble personality and was again lost to him.

Rage clouded Thor’s actions as he took up the offensive against his brother once more. He looked hurt, he looked betrayed, “I know you now for the rogue you are, Loki! Though you are my brother in name, my brother in fact, you shall always be my enemy in spirit!”

It had been a personal violation this time, one that Thor clearly maintained the memories of. It was unfortunate, Loki had hoped another hit would have left him far more disoriented and forgetful. Without a doubt, these were the actions of Thor; this was not at Odin’s behest, not this time. Passionate hatred radiated off the thunder god in waves.

Loki knew of the consequences before he commenced this plan, he knew of the irreparable damage it could cause between them should events play out thus. As reluctant as he was to admit it, Loki had no choice but to accept the terms. It was too late now.

With a mighty hurl, Thor flung Mjolnir at Loki’s head. He crumpled to the ground immediately, and as his vision went black, not even the master of lies could convince himself that the pain he felt was not more than that of a mere blow from the hammer.


End file.
